Tommy was eating his meal neatly, using his knife and fork correctly. He’s been well trained, Lil thought.
‘Did you go to the village school, Tommy?’
The boy swallowed the mouthful before replying. ‘Yes, Grandma. I like it there. I shouldn’t really have gone before I’m five, but they let me start early. Just for half a day. Will I have to go to school here now?’ The little boy was well-mannered and articulate for his age.
‘I – I expect so.’ Lil faltered. ‘Unless, of course . . .’ Her voice trailed away as a sudden thought struck her.
Maybe it would be best if they went back to the farm. Were Mr and Mrs Schofield prepared to have them back because one of their sons was the baby girl’s father?
‘Did you – um – see Mr and Mrs Schofield’s sons much?’
‘No. They never came home.’
‘Not all the time you were there?’
Tommy shook his head as he set his knife and fork neatly side by side on the empty plate. ‘May I have some pudding, please, Grandma?’
‘Oh – I’m sorry, I haven’t made any pudding.’
Tommy pouted for a moment. ‘Mrs Schofield always made pudding.’
‘I’m sorry. I’ll be sure to make one tomorrow.’ That’s if, she thought to herself, you’re still here.
As Lil stood up and began to clear away Tommy’s plate, Irene opened the door into the scullery. ‘She’s asleep now. I’ve put her back in her pram just until we decide . . .’
‘Then Tommy’d better go outside and play.’
Irene drew in a sharp breath. ‘He’s not going out into the street. Not yet. Not until . . .’
‘Then he can go into the backyard. Tommy,’ she turned to the boy, ‘if you go into the washhouse, you’ll find a ball near the mangle. It’s one I kept here for Reggie to play with when I looked after him.’ There was a catch in Lil’s voice at the memory. ‘You can have a kick-about.’
‘Isn’t there anyone I can play with? At the farm I played with Alfie, who lived at the end of the lane.’
Lil sighed. She could see there were going to be a lot of comparisons made between life here in the town and on the farm. And none of them favourable to us, Lil thought. Perhaps it would be better all round if they did go back. And yet her heart wrenched at the thought of losing her daughter, grandson and – it had to be said – her granddaughter for good. She loved her daughter devotedly, even though at this moment she was angry and disappointed in her. Yet Irene was still her flesh and blood as were Tommy and the baby.
Lil had a granddaughter! The realization came as a shock.
It was what they’d all wanted; a little girl alongside Tommy. Frank especially had always wanted a little girl, he’d said. But not this way – not like this! He wouldn’t want this one and his mother had already made her feelings very plain. If Irene stayed here, then Lil’s friendship with Edie was over. And if the little family went back to the country, then Lil would be alone for the rest of her life with nothing to look forward to except fleeting and infrequent visits to the farm when she could save the money for the fare. It was a heart-breaking decision she would have to make but, even though she loved Edie as a dear friend, family would always come first, as indeed it would with Edie. Lil couldn’t blame her for taking her son’s side, as ‘sides’ there’d surely be. And what would Archie say when he came home from his latest trip? Lil shuddered. The whole family would be against her; indeed, soon the whole street might ostracize them, for Edie was a force to be reckoned with in the neighbourhood. She’d turn everyone against her former friend.
Sensing the tension between the two women, Tommy slipped down from his chair and went out of the back door, closing it quietly behind him. Slowly, Lil turned to look at her daughter.
Thirty-Eight
‘Whose is it?’ Lil asked bluntly unable to hold back the question any longer the moment Tommy was out of earshot.
The stubborn look Lil remembered so well came over Irene’s face. ‘I’m not telling you that, Mam. I don’t want anyone making trouble.’
‘Why? Is he married?’ Lil almost spat the words out in her growing disgust. She no longer knew her own daughter. She would never have thought that Irene could do something like this. Archie had always called her ‘a good little lass’. Well, he wouldn’t think so now.
Irene closed her eyes. ‘Don’t ask, Mam. Please don’t ask any more.’
‘I take it he is, then. And he’s not going to stand by you? ’Spect he’s gone back to his wife, has he? After a nice little fling that leaves you holding the baby. Literally. Oh,’ she snorted contemptuously, ‘men have it so easy. Just have their fun and walk away without a backward glance—’
‘He’s dead, Mam,’ Irene blurted out, unable to bear her mother’s tirade any longer. ‘He’s not coming back to anyone.’
Horrified, Lil’s mouth dropped open as she stared at Irene, whose eyes filled with easy tears.
‘Well, I’m sorry for the young feller,’ Lil said stiffly. ‘I wouldn’t wish anyone any harm. And I feel sorry for the Schofields. They must have been devastated.’ Even though Tommy had indicated that they’d never been home, Lil believed the little boy had got it wrong.
Irene frowned. ‘The Schofields? Why would they be devastated?’
‘Losing their son, of course.’
‘Their son?’ Irene stared at her mother and then she laughed wryly as she understood just what Lil was implying. ‘Oh, no, Marie’s father’s not one of the Schofields’ boys. As far as we know, they’re still both fine and itching to come home as soon as their turn for demob comes up.’
‘Oh!’ Lil was startled by this revelation. ‘Then who—?’
Irene sighed. ‘Mam, I told you I’m not telling you his name. I won’t ever tell anyone because I don’t want to cause trouble for his poor family. But I’ll just tell you this and it’s all I’m going to tell anyone. He was a bomber pilot and he was killed on a raid.’
‘Do his family know, I mean—?’
‘I’ve said, no more, Mam,’ Irene snapped. She made as if to get up but Lil put out her hand to stop her.
‘All right, all right, I won’t ask any more.’ Heavily, she added, ‘It won’t make any difference anyway. I just thought that he – or they – might stand by you in some way, but . . .’ Her voice faded away as the last vestige of that hope died. But she still had another question. ‘You said the Schofields would have you back to live with them? Why, if the child’s not their son’s?’
Irene’s mouth was tight and there was a trace of accusation in her tone as she said, ‘They’re good people. They understand how lonely I was. How – how I was missing Frank – afraid he might never come back. It was wrong, I know that, and I’m not making any excuses, but it’s what happens in war. I’m not the only one.’
‘And that makes it better, does it?’ Lil muttered.
‘No, but just remember, I could have had her adopted and said nothing to anyone. The Schofields would have kept my secret, but I could hardly have sworn a four-year-old little boy to secrecy, could I? It’d’ve come out somehow, sometime. Better to face the music. And there was Reggie too. He knew and he’d have told his mother, I don’t doubt. Besides,’ her eyes softened, ‘Marie’s a dear little thing. I couldn’t bear to give her up.’
‘So the Schofields knew him, did they?’
‘Just stop digging, Mam, ’cos you’re not getting to know any more either from me or from them.’
Lil could see that she was going to be told nothing more so all she said now was, ‘So, what are you going to do?’
Irene gave a wan smile and Lil could see the sadness in her eyes. She was putting on an act of defiance, but Lil knew her daughter – she hadn’t changed so much – and Irene wasn’t feeling as brave inside as she’d like everyone to think.
‘Unless you turn us all out here and now, I’m going to stay here until Frank gets home and tell him the truth and let him decide.’
Lil’s mouth dropped open at the
audacity of her decision. ‘Well, I reckon you’ll find Edie has summat to say about that long before Frank has a chance to get home.’
Edie was sitting at her table, a cup of tea growing cold in front of her as she stared out of the window overlooking the backyard. The door into the yard from the passageway running between two houses banged and Shirley’s shadow passed the living-room window overlooking the backyard. The back door opened with a flourish and closed with another crash. Everyone knew when Shirley arrived home. There was a moment’s pause whilst she took off her shoes in the scullery and then padded on stockinged feet into the living room.
‘Ursula’s gone home. She says she’s got a cold and isn’t feeling well, but I reckon it’s because she feels awkward.’ Shirley laughed. ‘She thinks folks don’t like her accent. I told her, if they’d been going to object, they’d have done it months ago.’
Suddenly, a shaft of fear struck her as Shirley realized her mother was sitting, just staring into space as if . . . There was no sign of an evening meal being prepared, though, after all they had eaten at the party, that was reasonable enough. But there was something strange about her mother’s attitude. Her face was a mask, her shoulders slumped. The girl caught her breath and sat down, suddenly quiet, in a chair opposite Edie. ‘Mam?’ she whispered. ‘What is it? What’s happened? Is it – is it Dad?’ Despite not being actively involved in the war, Archie was in constant danger fishing in the North Sea. ‘Or – or our Frank?’
Edie blinked, brought out of her reverie. ‘It’s Frank, at least . . .’
‘Oh no, no!’ Shirley cried, shocked. ‘But the war’s over. Surely he’s not got killed now at the very last minute?’
‘No, no, duck,’ Edie said hastily, ‘it’s nothing like that. He’s fine as far as I know, though,’ she added bitterly, ‘I reckon there’s someone he’ll want to kill when he does get home.’
‘Mam, you’re talking in riddles. Just tell me what’s happened? Oh, I know,’ she went on, making up her own stories. ‘It’s our Beth. She’s got herself in the family way, has she? That’s why we haven’t heard from her in months.’ She laughed gleefully. ‘By heck, Dad’ll have a ducky fit if his precious Beth’s got herself into trouble.’
‘It’s not Beth,’ Edie said flatly. ‘It’s Irene.’
‘What do you mean, “It’s Irene”? What about her?’
‘She’s come home today – this afternoon – pushing a pram up the street as bold as brass – with a little babby in it.’
Shirley’s mouth dropped open. ‘Never! Not Irene!’ She paused, blinking as the enormity of what her mother was saying hit her with full force. ‘My God! What’s our Frank going to say?’ She paused and then added vehemently, ‘Or do!’
Edie’s mouth was grim. ‘Divorce her, probably, the little trollop. Eee, Shirley, how could she do it? To Frank? To all of us?’
Shirley was silent for a moment. There weren’t many people in the world that she truly liked, but Irene had been one of them. Though it was she and her older sister, Beth, who were best friends, they’d both been kind to Shirley and had often included her on their outings, even though she was younger than they were. They hadn’t had to do it, but they’d never made her feel left out. They’d always taken her ‘down dock’ to meet Archie when he came ashore and involved her in raiding his sea bag for the treats that were always there. And they’d never missed taking her into town on their shopping sprees when Archie was ‘king for a day’ down Freeman Street. No, of all the family, Beth and Irene had shown the awkward young girl the most kindness and understanding. But now, since she’d joined the ATS, Shirley had found her niche. She’d made friends – real friends – of her own. Though she’d felt closer to her mother when she’d been the only one left at home, she’d been honest enough with herself to know that, once the others came back after the war, the focus of attention would move away from her again. When Frank, Beth and Reggie were all back, Shirley would hardly be noticed – or missed. So, she had taken the decision to make her own life and it had been the right move for she was happier and more self-confident than she’d ever been. Her plainness at the side of her prettier, cleverer sister wasn’t so noticeable when she was smartly dressed in her uniform. But now a different sort of tragedy had hit their family and perhaps, after all, her mother would need her now.
‘Well, Mam,’ Shirley said at last, ‘it’s not often I’m shocked, but I have to say I am this time. I’d never have thought it of Irene.’ She caught her mother’s gaze and held it saying softly, ‘Whatever is poor Aunty Lil going to do?’
‘Aye,’ Edie said gruffly, ‘that’s what I’d like to know.’
Slyly, Shirley added, ‘What would you do if it had been Beth who’d come home with a babby in her arms?’
Edie shook her head. ‘I don’t know, duck. I really don’t, but I do know what I’m going to do about that ’un.’ She jerked her thumb towards the wall that divided the two houses. ‘I aren’t having owt to do with her. And I’ll tell our Frank not to, either, when he does get home.’
At that moment, through the thin wall, they heard the wails of a hungry child.
For the rest of that day and the whole of the following day, neither Edie nor Shirley went next door. It was probably the longest time that the two older women had gone without at least speaking over the fence as they hung out their washing or having a cup of tea or a meal together in one of their houses. Lil didn’t know whether to be sorry or relieved that Edie hadn’t come round.
The next morning, as Shirley was getting ready to return to camp at the end of her short leave, Edie said, ‘I’ve decided to go and see Reggie and see if I can persuade him to come home. Like you said, Shirley, he’s not old enough to make that sort of a decision.’
Shirley smirked, ‘And to find out more about Irene’s bastard.’
Edie smiled grimly and said sarcastically, ‘However did you guess?’
‘I wish I could come with you, but I’ve got to get back. Just you be sure you write and tell me what happens, Mam. With both of them.’
‘No, no, you run along, duck. I’ll write and tell you all about it. I promise.’
Shirley kissed her mother goodbye, doubting very much whether Edie would tell her anything. Still, she thought, as she hefted her kitbag onto her shoulder and set off up the street without a glance towards Lil’s house, she knew enough now to write and tell Frank what was waiting for him when he got home. She’d write to Beth, too, if only she knew where she was.
Edie was kneeling on the hearth black-leading the range. Although she had a modern cooker standing in the scullery, she still took pride in the shining appearance of the fireplace in the living room. Every Friday she would wash the ornaments and dust the photographs standing on the mantelpiece and polish the two brass candlesticks, standing at each end. She stood up, wincing a little as her knees protested for a moment. She removed everything from the mantelpiece, washed the top and then each item. She paused for a moment, holding the photograph of Laurence, his handsome face smiling up at her from its frame.
‘What would you think to all these goings-on, eh?’ she murmured and then, with a sigh, she replaced it tenderly in the centre. Next came the fender and the brass companion set with its poker, hearth-brush, tongs and tiny shovel, and then the toasting fork. It had always been Beth’s job to make hot buttered toast for all the family for Sunday tea. Edie polished them all lovingly with Brasso and, last of all, the heavy black iron kettle would be cleaned and set back on the fire for the inevitable cup of tea that, by this time, Edie felt she had earned.
Usually, Lil would come in about now and they’d sit and chat, but, this morning, there would be no Lil.
Later that morning, despite her worries, Edie enjoyed the train journey. Much as she loved the town of Grimsby and its people – and she really did – it was good to get out into the open countryside, to see the animals grazing, the gently rolling fields of the Wolds with the crops growing in the early summer sunshine. And best of all,
it was so good to know that England was now free and at peace once more. No more bombing, no more blackouts and soon, hopefully, no more rationing. If only all her family would come home. Frank was safe, but what a welcome home he would get now! Her heart ached for the sadness that awaited him. After all he’d done to help fight a war to preserve freedom and make a better life for his little family, for Irene to betray him in such a way, well, Edie couldn’t countenance it. And she certainly couldn’t forgive the girl. What would happen? She couldn’t begin to guess. She tried to turn her mind away from that particular trouble; today – more than anything – she hoped to persuade Reggie to come back home. And yet, she was honest enough to admit that, once she got to the Schofields, the temptation to ask about Irene would be too great.
But there was one more of her brood about whom she hardly dared to think: Beth. What had happened to Beth? She was so alone in her fears for her elder daughter. She couldn’t talk to Archie about it; she didn’t want him to be any more worried than he already was. Beth was the apple of his eye – always had been – and if something had happened to her, she didn’t think her poor Archie would ever get over it. Well, you don’t get over losing a child, she admonished herself sharply, just as she’d never get over Laurence’s death. You just get on with it. And she hadn’t felt able to confide in Lil, either, though she’d wanted to often enough. The postcards had continued to arrive, albeit infrequently, so she must be all right, mustn’t she? Though recently, she reminded herself, they had stopped altogether.
Out at sea, Archie was thinking about Beth too. It was peaceful out here, he mused. The life was hard, the conditions often cold, wet and uncomfortable, but it was the only life he knew and, all in all, it was a good life, even though there’d been the added dangers recently. He still had his regular crew, mostly older, seasoned men – even more so now that all the youngsters had gone off to war. Problems from home seemed very far away when he was at sea, yet even here he could not leave behind his concerns about Beth.
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